


even heroes have the right to dream

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Mind Manipulation, Mutant Powers, Partners in Crime, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of, Time Travel, ambiguous ending, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: He doesn’t deal with people one-on-one anymore. He works his shift at the factory. He comes home. Takes his pills. Drinks himself to sleep. He doesn’t go on road trips. Or smuggle little girls under the cover of darkness. Or make small talk with his ex.
Relationships: Emori/John Murphy (The 100)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16
Collections: Chopped Madness





	even heroes have the right to dream

Three clicks. A signal from a ghost. Three muffled clicks over the telephone and a pathetic scrap of stained paper.

They might as well have been three bullets from a sniper’s rifle.

Murphy throws back another shot of cheap vodka, not even wincing at the burn as it slides down his throat.

The paper feels oily between his fingertips, but he dares not set it down. Here, cupped in the palm of his hand, it’s still the tiniest of flames, one he can snuff out with a clenched fist.

He should.

Instead he reads the familiar handwriting again and again.

“Shit.”

He grabs the bottle and drinks again, but this isn’t as easy as numbing himself to sleep. This is Bellamy. And he can’t ignore Bellamy.

“Shit,” he mutters again and he could almost laugh.

Six years of hiding. Six years of trying to leave the past behind. Six years of looking over his shoulder, waiting for death to inevitably catch up to him.

He never would have guessed he’d willingly run back to meet it.

The coded map leads Murphy out of the slums at the heart of Arkadia and towards the northern outskirts. He walks with the practiced, unhurried pace needed to escape notice of watching eyes. Every instinct screams at him to wait until the next night, to travel under cover of darkness, but he ignores the fear pricking along his spine. Being out on the streets after dark is the surest way to mark yourself as a person of interest.

The ramshackle housing grows more sporadic, separated by overgrown yards and dilapidated fences. Traffic lessens until only the occasional truck ambles past, tires groaning over potholes. Murphy’s steps slow in front of an unremarkable house, bearing the same peeling yellow siding, shuttered windows and unkempt yard as the rest of the neighborhood. A metallic sign screwed onto the wall of the attached garage reads “Reyes and Co. Machine Shop”. 

He slips around the side and through the creaky door to the storm porch at the backside, letting it close with a hearty warning screech. Various benches littered with tools and greasy mechanical bits are strewn haphazardly around the porch and he chuckles at the familiarity of the scene.

“If you’re here for a repair, please go around front and use the…”

The woman bustling through the back door stops and stares.

“Murphy?”

He takes in the familiar ponytail, the grease-stained forearms, the complex mechanical brace cradling her left leg.

“Hey, Reyes. Long time, no see, and all that.”

She crosses her arms and looks him up and down with a piercing glare.

“You look like shit.”

Murphy drums his fingertips idly on his knee. “Thanks. Love you too.”

She continues to look him over and he resists the urge to shy away from her scrutiny.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Half a dozen sarcastic retorts rise to the tip of his tongue. He swallows them and aims for the truth instead.

“I didn’t either.”

She raises an eyebrow at his forwardness.

“Raven, I think I finally figured out those adjustments! If we recalibrate the inner gauges so that they…”

The second woman’s excited voice trails off as she pulls up short in the doorway, mouth agape. An intricate black tattoo curls over her brow and down the line of her nose.

Murphy finally cracks under the absolute absurdity of it all. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Because of course after surviving genetic experimentation to give him super powers, a civil war that ended in crushing defeat, and six years of hiding under a false identity, Bellamy would rope him back in to work with his ex.

Murphy lounges on the ratty couch Raven waved him towards, taking in the sub-basement hideout the two women call home. Much like the porch, machinery in various stages of assembly litters the room, although unlike the porch, most of the visible projects resemble weaponry of some kind.

Emori perches on the opposite side of the room, by some sort of unspoken agreement. 

“How long have you guys been holed up here?”

The women exchange glances and he hates the easy unspoken conversation that passes between them.

“Years,” Reyes offers, simply.

“Years?” He sits up a little straighter. “So… this whole time?”

Emori’s glare threatens to burn right through him. “Not all of us ran like cowards.”

“Guess you never got the memo that the war was over. Newsflash: we lost.”

“That is not how a resistance works and you know it.”

“Both of you shut up for a minute,” Raven snaps. “You’re here now because we need help. Here, catch.”

Murphy deftly grabs the folder she tosses towards him and flips through a couple maps and some scribbled notes in Bellamy’s familiar handwriting.

“No offense, but this looks like a simple border crossing. Bellamy can do that in his sleep.”

“If it was that easy, don’t you think we would have taken care of it?” Emori snaps.

He looks over the maps again. “Shallow Valley? I thought they were pretty relaxed down there.”

“They were,” Raven says. “Until about six months ago. For some reason a whole security division got moved right into the central village.”

“The central village?” A half-buried memory nudges at him. “Isn’t that where Clarke went?”

“So you do still remember some of the people who saved your ass,” Emori mutters.

He ignores her.

“Is this about Clarke?”

Raven actually looks nervous. “Sort of… I think her daughter started showing some… abilities.”

“Her… Clarke has a kid?”

“Something you would have known if you would have stuck around for more than ten minutes before deciding to run off and stick your head up…”

“Emori!” Raven’s sharp voice cuts over the other woman’s rising tone and Emori ducks her head in deference.

“Look, the situation is what it is. With my leg, I’m not cut out for this kind of thing and you… there’s not many of us left.” She doesn’t add that he’s not cut out for this kind of thing anymore either. Which means they must really be stretched thin.

His gaze darts back to Emori. “I don’t know. Can you resist killing me long enough to get the job done?”

Emori scoffs and stands abruptly. “I always get the job done, John. No matter who my partner is.”

“Fine.” He flashes a smile he doesn’t feel. “Don’t worry, ladies. Murphy’s back on the job.”

The mission parameters seem simple. Cross the Arkadian border. Retrieve the powered refugee from Shallow Valley. Cross back into Arkadia, one of the last “safe cities”.

However, factoring in the death of Marcus Kane, the barebones remains of a shattered resistance, and the slow but sure eradication of powered peoples makes for a more complicated picture. One with a lot of unknowns.

Murphy hates unknowns almost as much as he hates the government who created him and wants to kill him.

They load Raven’s jeep with scant supplies, just enough for the two days it will take to get to Shallow Valley. Clarke will help them resupply for the trip back. Murphy is more concerned about the number of guns Emori stuffs into her duffel bag.

“You know, if we get caught with that, even I’m not going to be able to talk my way out of it,” he snarks.

She rolls her eyes at him and slams the car door dangerously close to his fingers. “As if you could talk your way out of a wet paper bag.”

He decides to keep his mouth shut for a while.

Raven has a friend on the border guard so when they slip out of the city at sunset, there’s not a patrol in sight. Still Murphy doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief until Arkadia is only a smudge on the horizon behind them. He fiddles with the radio until he finds an old rock station and leans back in his seat letting the music wash over him.

Emori keeps her eyes on the road, fingers tense on the wheel.

“Will you relax?” Murphy chides. “We’ve got hours before we even get close to the next town.”

She eyes him, but remains silent. Murphy lets it go, muttering snatches of familiar lyrics to himself and tapping his fingers on the arm rest.

But he can’t stop himself from stealing glances. He doesn’t deal with people one-on-one anymore. He works his shift at the factory. He comes home. Takes his pills. Drinks himself to sleep. He doesn’t go on road trips. Or smuggle little girls under the cover of darkness. Or make small talk with his ex.

He shoots Emori another look and this time catches her staring at him for a brief second before she whips her gaze away. A flicker of triumph boosts his confidence and he grins insolently.

“So…. this is your first mission in how long?”

“Shut up, John,” she mutters. But she doesn’t sound as dangerously hostile, so he decides to press, crossing his arms languidly.

“You just seem… tense. What did you do for all those years? Sit in that basement and play games with Raven?”

“I said, shut up,” Emori grits from between her teeth.

“Ooh, sensitive huh? Hey, you finally got to be her star pupil, just like you always wanted. Granted, there’s not much competition around, but still…”

Emori slams her palm on the steering wheel, just hard enough to make Murphy shut his mouth.

“Some of us wanted to still be useful, John,” she says lowly. “Some of us make good on our promises, even when the going gets tough. Did you ever think of that?”

Murphy presses his lips together into a thin line.

“Yeah, well some of us wanted to survive. You used to think that way too.”

“I changed.” She tenses her jaw. “I found something that was bigger than myself. Something that was meant for people like me to find our place. For people like you.”

A sour taste builds at the back of Murphy’s tongue and he turns away. “You’re wrong. It was never for someone like me.”

In the early dawn hours, when the sky is torn between darkness and light, Murphy spots the white signal flag, dangling limply from the upper level of an abandoned barn just off the highway. Emori parks them a respectable distance away to let Murphy out.

She eyes him skeptically. “You remember all the rules?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not brain-dead, Emori. Just a traitor. Remember?”

She scowls and slumps in her seat. “Just hurry up.”

He checks the pistol at his waist and jogs in a staggered pattern up the slight incline to the barn. The dim insides smell of rotting hay and mold and a quick scan shows no footprints in the thick layer of dust on the stairs as he ascends into the loft.

Murphy takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what he knows is going to be an unnerving sight as he strides up the last two stairs, gun at the ready.

“Hands where I can see them.”

Emori slowly stands from her cross-legged position, hands held up placatingly.

“I was starting to think I got the time wrong,” she says.

Murphy blows out a long breath. “Nope, you’re good.”

She looks him up and down, a sly smile crossing her face. “John? Are you doing okay?”

He shoves his pistol roughly back into his holster. “Give me a break. It’s been six years.”

She raises an eyebrow at him expectantly and he shifts uneasily. “This... this time travel shit is just a little… unnerving, okay?”

She cackles. “You _are_ nervous aren’t you? Wow, and you actually tried to give _me_ shit about being tense.”

“Just give me the fucking message.”

Emori stops laughing, but her eyes keep twinkling merrily. It’s stupid how much he misses that twinkle.

“There’s a roadblock about fifteen miles ahead,” she says. “Three men, lots of guns.”

“Lovely. Any suggestions?”

She smiles sweetly and tilts her head. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

When Murphy climbs back into the jeep a few minutes later, Emori is impatiently drumming her hands on the steering wheel.

“Well?”

“Give me a second,” he huffs. “I forgot how weird your time schtick is.”

“Well excuse me. We can’t all just drug our powers away, now can we.”

He leans his head back wearily. “Give it a rest, why don’t you?”

“Oh, but I’ve waited so long to tell you exactly what I think of your _decisions_. I mean, a dream walker who doesn’t dream anymore? Do you know exactly what kind of an idiot you are?”

“There’s a roadblock down the road. I have a plan to take it out,” he spits out. “Start driving and I’ll explain on the way.”

Emori throws the car into gear and they start moving again.

Murphy leans his forehead on the glass and watches the grass turn into a blur. “I dream,” he mutters.

“What?”

“I said, here’s the plan…”

It’s one of their classic maneuvers. Draw attention with the vehicle while the second person flanks the bad guys on foot. And of course, it doesn’t hurt to have superior fire power.

After Murphy’s ears stop ringing from the Raven Reyes patented explosion, the road block and any resistance is gone.

Emori wrinkles her nose at the three charred bodies. “Maybe I should have set it off a little closer. Scattered the body pieces for us.”

Murphy winces and she laughs. He forgot how alive she is at times like this. He forgot how much she makes _him_ feel alive.

He shoves the feeling away and nudges the nearest body with his toe. “Well, they’re still here so I guess it’s disposal time.”

“That’s all on you,” Emori winks. “I’m headed back to the barn to send a message, remember?”

Murphy groans. “Fucking stupid time loops. I hate your power. What’s the point of a few hours of time travel? You can’t even use it for anything useful.”

A shadow crosses her face and she stalks past him to the car.

“Emori? I didn’t... I didn’t mean that.”

“Just get rid of the bodies, John.”

She drives away. The sun is coming up quickly. Time to hide some bodies.

They end up pulling off into a wooded copse, only another hour down the road, following old habits and sleeping during the day. With the back seats folded down and their bags piled against the sides, there’s just enough room for them to lie back to back.

Emori doesn’t say anything when he chokes down his pills and he’s grateful for that, too tired for another argument. They huddle under a thin blanket, letting their exhaustion take over.

And Murphy dreams.

It’s the same as always. Kane walks across the stage, hands bound in front of him, the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd audible even through the grainy television. The cameras follow him, feeding the execution of the resistance leader live to the entire country. Kane doesn’t blink once. Not when they force him to his knees, not when they press the gun to his temple, not when they pull the trigger.

Murphy relives it all, every agonizing detail. 

When he finally wakes up, mouth stretched painfully wide around his panicked gasps, the nightmare continues to loop through his head. Always taunting him.

He can feel Emori’s presence behind him, awake. He waits for her to say something, anything, but she stays silent. Not for the first time, Murphy wishes he’d died on that stage too.

It takes her halfway through the next night to bring it up.

“You still dream.”

Murphy wants nothing more than to lean forward and crank up the radio, drowning out her inquisitive eyes and the impulse he’s been fighting to reach out and trace the swirl of her tattoo.

Old habits die hard.

“Yeah.”

She has the grace to look apologetic. “I didn’t know.”

Kane’s face stays branded in his mind’s eye. “I wish I didn’t. But the pills just hide my power. They can’t stop the dreams.”

She absorbs that with a slight nod. “Nightmares?”

“What other kinds of dreams are there?” he jokes, but he knows it hits home by the way her eyes shutter.

“We all have our issues, John,” she mumbles.

His laugh tastes bitter. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“I take suppression pills that trap me in my own nightmares. You keep playing the good little resistance soldier as if no time has passed. We make quite the pair.”

Emori bites her lip, jaw clenched in anger, but she doesn’t deign to answer him.

He doesn’t blame her.

The safehouse a little ways outside of Shallow Valley is a welcome relief, if only for the promise of an actual bed. So when they walk into the one bedroom cabin and Emori drops her bags in surprise, Murphy has to laugh.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking.”

One bed. Not even a queen-sized bed at that. His life is one, big, cosmic joke.

“Be an adult for once in your life,” Emori snaps, recovering faster than him. She grabs her things and heads for the tiny bathroom. “Or sleep on the floor for all I care.”

She slams the door and he waits until the sound of the shower filters through before settling on the bed. Despite a few creaky springs, it’s better than the jeep by a long shot.

Damn it.

He can do this. It’s no different than sharing the car with her.

He tosses back his pills and curls up under the covers before she’s even out of the bathroom.

Kane’s face fills his nightmares. This time Murphy stands in front of the stage along with the jeering crowd and Kane’s piercing stare bores into him. He’s stiff as a ramrod as he waits for the inevitable shot to ring out.

“John, John!”

Emori’s hands are on his shoulders and she forcefully turns him away from Kane. “John! Wake up!”

His eyes snap open, Emori’s nose only centimeters from his face. 

“Emori?”

He hates how small his voice sounds.

She blinks twice. Lips pressed in a tense line. “You were… you were having a nightmare.”

The moment feels precariously balanced on a knife's edge, as if the wrong word will send them both toppling. Murphy tries to take a deep breath, slowing his frantic heartbeat. “I’m… okay.”

Emori slowly pulls away and he immediately misses the weight of her leaning on his chest . “Thanks for… that. Um.. waking me up.”

“Don’t mention it.” She rolls on her side too quickly and yanks the blankets back up to her chin. Murphy does the same, but he doesn’t go back to sleep, unbidden memories of a simpler time flooding his mind. Memories of flushed skin pressed together under sweaty sheets. Secret smiles exchanged during the day that held promises of shared nights. And when Emori eventually rolls over and unconsciously presses her knees into his back, he smiles.

They leave the safehouse with enough time to cross into the valley before sunset. Shallow Valley is a small community and friendly in a way that reminds Murphy of pre-war times. Colorful flags festoon the streets while kids run barefoot across the lawns. Church bells ring, calling people to a community dinner. Sunlight dances across cheerful faces of families chatting on their front porches.

Almost paradise. If you could ignore the armed guards stationed on key street corners and the sniper rifles peering through second story windows.

A shiver runs down Murphy’s back.

Emori seems to be having similar thoughts. “Fucking military ruins everything good,” she mutters.

Murphy reaches over and taps her knee gently. “Hey, we’ll get the kid and we’ll get out. No problem.”

She looks up at him surprised, then gives him a careful nod.

The route Bellamy’s notes lay out for them takes them on a winding path through the village that avoids any hot spots of guard activity. A flash of familiar blonde hair is waiting to meet them.

“Murphy?”

“Why is everyone so surprised?” he sighs, kicking the door shut behind him. Emori shakes her head as she rounds the car.

Clarke chuckles a little, but her smile is flat. “Well I’m glad to see you. Both of you. Come meet Madi.”

Madi is a cute little thing, wild brown curls barely held in check with a scrunchy, feet swinging busily back and forth from her seat at the kitchen table. She clutches a red crayon in one hand and scribbles haphazardly at the paper in front of her.

“Madi, come meet our guests,” Clarke calls out in false cheerfulness.

The girl looks up at them skeptically. She holds on to her crayon. Murphy can’t blame her.

“Don’t worry about us,” Emori says with a smile. She eases across the room to drop to one knee by the girl. “You look pretty busy.”

Madi gives her a short nod.

Clarke crosses her arms. “Finish up your drawing, Madi. Murphy and Emori need to get going so that means you need to make sure you have everything packed.”

Madi finally slides from her chair and runs to Clarke, wrapping herself around Clarke’s knees. “I don’t wanna go, Mom!”

Murphy feels his heart break a little and he grabs Emori’s arm. “We’ll go wait outside.”

Clarke gives him an appreciative nod, eyes full of tears and Murphy pulls Emori back outside.

“This sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Murphy drops to his seat on the cement steps, digging his fingers idly into a deep crack and trying not to listen to the sound of Clarke crying. Emori paces in front of him.

The church bells ring again as the sun gleams on the horizon.

“Madi’s a dream walker, you know?”

Murphy looks up at her. “I didn’t know.”

The sunset paints her in a glowing silhouette, like some sort of fiery angel.

“Maybe you could teach her.”

Murphy presses his fingertips into the jagged cement until they start to sting. “Emori… you know that’s never going to happen.”  
“Why not?”

“Because!” He reigns in his temper. “Because.. I can’t walk anymore. It’s… out of the question.”

“But what if you tried again? You wouldn't have to be trapped. You wouldn’t feel useless…”

“You think… that’s what this is about? You think I feel useless?”

She backpedals. “John, I’m just saying…”

“You know, I’m the one with a real life I made for myself. I made my peace. I moved on. You’re the one who pulled me back in. The one who just can’t let go. You! Not me!”

“John, please keep your voice down,” she hisses.

He crosses his arms, folding in on himself. “I’m done.”

She taps her foot in an agitated pattern. “I think you’re scared. I think you’re scared and the nightmares are at least… familiar. Maybe even comfortable.”

Murphy’s laugh is sharp. “Comfortable? Have you ever had a nightmare?”

“I’m serious! Better the fear you know than the fear you don’t, or something like that? Just imagine if you actually faced your fears.”

He chuckles dryly. “Is this all leading up to me being a hero or something?”

“I don’t know. But that’s the point isn’t it?”

The sunlight disappears and he’s left with just Emori and her disappointed glare and the sound of a child’s crying getting closer to the door behind him.

He doesn’t take his pills.

They stop at the safehouse for Madi to use the bathroom.

Murphy nearly jumps out of his skin when two seconds after Emori ushers Madi into the cabin, another Emori comes sprinting around the corner of the cabin and jumps into the car next to him.

“What the fu-”  
“Shut up!” Her gaze darts furtively back and forth. Blood oozes from a gash across her forehead.

“What the hell happened?” he demands. “You’re… aren’t you supposed to follow protocols for time messages? Aren’t there going to be paradoxes if you don’t set up a safe environment and…”

“I said, shut up, John!” she hisses again. “This is an emergency.”

She’s afraid. Really, really afraid.

“Talk to me.”

“There’s an ambush ahead. Twenty men? Maybe more. A couple hours up the road, but there’s no way to avoid them. They…” Her breaths are jagged and he can’t help himself from reaching over and squeezing her hand.

“Hey. Just breathe.”

She swallows hard. “We had to run. I’m laying low with Madi here at the safehouse until they leave.”

“Okay, so should we just… stay here?”

She shakes her head.

“Emori, there’s something you’re not telling me. Why would we run headlong into an ambush?”

“I’m not sure I should say.”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “Isn’t the whole point of coming back in time to tell me when shit like this..”

“You gave yourself up!”

He stares at her and she stares back. Somewhere inside the cabin he hears a door slam.

“I what?”

Her eyes are full of tears. “You gave yourself up so we could get away and they would leave.”

He bursts into the cabin, making Emori reach for her gun and Madi shriek.

“John, what-”  
He lays on the bed. “I need to dream.”

Emori’s eyes go wide. “Why?”

He sighs and closes his eyes briefly.

“I just talked to future-you.”

“A message? But there’s no flag. No protocol. We could have been stuck in a paradox and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” he snarls, waving her off. “But the important thing is that there’s a shit ton of men waiting for us up the road and I need to figure out what they’re planning.”

“But your pills…”

“I… didn’t take them earlier.” He meets her eyes. “You were right, I’m afraid.”

She sits on the edge of the bed as he yanks off his shoes in some semblance of making himself comfortable. He tries to relax, but his heart is racing and his muscles are tense.

He slots one eye open and Emori is still there. No words pass between them but she lowers herself to the mattress and presses into his side.

“I’m here,” she whispers.

It’s a familiar feeling, having her pressed against his side. The darkness of the cabin could be their old bedroom, when the resistance was something that made his heart beat with pride and he felt invincible. He instinctively wraps one arm around her and waits for her to object. She doesn’t.

He turns into her and breathes in the scent of her hair. Six years and she still uses the same shampoo. He loves it. He loves her. Something he won’t ever be able to tell her again.

He breathes her in and he dreams.

Kane stands on the stage, wavering only slightly back and forth. Only someone who knows him well would notice how exhausted he was.

His sharp gaze lands on Murphy.

“Welcome back, Mr. Murphy,” he snaps.

Murphy feels the difference. Like electricity snapping through the air. “Thank you, sir.”

He doesn’t wait to watch the end of the dream. He’s seen the nightmare too many times, an old worn out memory. He’s tired of being afraid.

He turns and walks away from the stage and the crowd, pushing them aside easily. The border of his dream is a translucent wall and he shoves himself through it. It feels like walking through water, the effort of traveling tugging at his limbs and weighing them down.

But really, it’s just like riding a bike.

Large orbs float through the dreamscape, whimsical lights and shapes dancing within. Other people’s dreams. Murphy focuses his mind on what he wants and hones in on one quickly. A soldier nearby, dozing his watch away.

The dream itself is a pretty normal mesh of nonsense and pure fantasy. The soldier dances with a woman whose curves are wildly out of proportion with her baby doll face. No one seems to notice or care that the jazz quartet is singing from the ceiling or that the bartender is some sort of giant bat.

Murphy smoothly whirls into the dance and grabs the soldier.

“May I have this dance?”

It’s been a long time since he’s done this, but it comes back to him easily. The reassuring smile, the confidence it takes to insert himself seamlessly into someone’s dream.

The soldier grins and doesn’t even protest as they continue dancing.

“So what brings you here on this fine evening?” Murphy leans in and whispers.

The soldier laughs a little, fawning at the attention. “A little business. We’re hunting down more of those illegal super-powereds. My mom is going to be so happy I got promoted to this squad.”

“Do you know how many you’re looking for?”

The soldier frowns slightly. “We don’t know. Intel said one. A dreamer we think.”  
Murphy’s heart sinks. Madi.

Then beats again with hope.

“No other intel, huh?”

The soldier giggles again as Murphy dips him low. “Just that. But we’ll find our man. We always do.”

Murphy spins the man into a dizzying whirl only possible with the physics of a dreamscape and takes the chance to head for the barrier. They don’t know they’re looking for a little girl. That’s something he can use.

He hops between dreams, making sure to make himself obvious. Recognizable.

If they’re looking for a dreamer, he’ll give them a dreamer.

When he gets back to his own dream, he gives Kane a grim smile and resurfaces.

Emori grips his arm as he opens his eyes.

“I have a plan.”

She insists on coming with him. At least far enough to make sure he survives. Neither one of them states the obvious.

“Don’t forget, you have to go back to the safehouse and make sure to give me the message,” Murphy reiterates as they bump along the highway.

Emori doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

“Emori, it’s going to be okay. This is the best…”

They hit another dip in the road and something explodes.

“Shit!”

Emori hits the brakes and they fishtail into another explosion. The jeep tilts crazily to one side and then thuds back onto all four wheels, smoke rising from the engine.

“Madi!” Murphy whirls behind him to find Madi unharmed and clinging like a leech to her seatbelt.

Emori groans and sits up, tenderly prodding at a gash on her forehead. “Shit. That’s going to leave a mark.”

Murphy swallows hard. “They must be just up ahead. I need to go before they come for us. They can’t see you.”

“No, John wait…”

“Stick to the plan. I’ll be okay.”

She clutches his wrist and they meet each other’s frantic gazes. He reaches up and wipes the blood carefully away from her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll get Madi back.”

Her grip is like iron.

“I promise.”

He flashes a wan smile. “Always get the job done, right?”

She gives him a watery laugh and he wants to kiss her. He so badly wants to kiss her.

He saves her the pain, leaning into the back seat and winking at Madi. “Take care, kid.”

Then he slides from the car and sprints up the rise, heart pounding. He wants to turn back when he crests the hill, to see her one more time. But instead, he dips down the other side and marches straight towards the assembled guards who are just starting to hurry towards the sound of the explosion, arms raised above his head.

He sees flashes of recognition and surprise from several of the soldiers.

“Dreamer.” He hears the word tossed around a couple times and then they’re approaching him and roughly shoving him to the ground. Searching for weapons. Sliding on a pair of cuffs.

“We’ve got him, Colonel!”

“He’s been spying on our dreams all night.”

“Let’s get him back to the agency. Looks like our job here is done.”

“We found his car a little ways back on the road!”

Murphy’s heart pounds.

“Anything in there?”

“Some weapons and a couple blankets. Nothing else.”

He could cry in relief. They got away. Emori got away.

Madi is safe.

Emori will live to fight another day.

And Murphy finally has a chance to face the nightmares, once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Round 2 of Chopped Madness! Title taken from the song Superman by Five for Fighting.
> 
> Character: John Murphy
> 
> Theme: Dystopian
> 
> Tropes used:  
> 1\. Partners in crime  
> 2\. Bed-sharing
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this (kind of wacky) take on a dystopian AU! And please vote for me in the upcoming poll!


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